


Quest

by GriegPlants



Category: Forgotten Realms
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Unrequited Love, Waterdeep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21841702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GriegPlants/pseuds/GriegPlants
Summary: Every story starts somewhere.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violeteyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violeteyes/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!

Coral shook the water out of her cloak and hung it on the peg beside the door. With the street lamps outside blocked off, along with the torrential rain, it was easy for her to see the thin line of light shining out from under her brother’s door, defying the lateness of the hour. Sighing, Coral wiped her feet on the mat and headed down the short, narrow hall to see what was keeping him up this time.

Her knock was answered by a vacant-sounding ‘Come in.’ Entering, she saw Paton lying cross-legged on his bed, bandore clasped to his chest, plucking out a few deep notes and gazing at the ceiling.

This was not an unusual sight. Since Coral and her brother had been children, Paton had possessed a fondness for music and daydreaming surpassed only by his utter disinterest in anything really practical. It was lucky for the two halflings that Coral had both the dedication and temperament to hold a half-decent job – as a bouncer at Felzoun’s Folly, currently – or they might not have been able to afford a place in the city.

Oh, Paton wasn’t without talent – far from it! - but while he’d occasionally bring back some coin from playing at a tavern or an inn, it wasn’t steady work. And there were times, tendays at a stretch, when he’d do nothing but moon about, composing music in his head, pining after some pretty lass, or dreaming about having the sort of heroic adventures he’d heard travellers recounting or read about in Deekin Scalesinger's latest best-seller.

Coral didn’t particularly mind. While earning respect and a reputation as a bouncer had been difficult at first, her ability to calm down belligerent drunkards with cheery conversation, backed up by a solid punch easily capable of shattering a knee if friendlier options failed, had impressed enough of the city’s tavernmasters that by the time she and Paton had moved into the Trades Ward, she’d had little trouble finding a position. She brought home enough coin to support them both comfortably, with enough left over to afford fancy pastries and tarts a few times a week. She could even buy two nice meals for herself and Gram, the young man she was seeing at the moment, whenever they went out together – which was good, because as an apprentice mage he never had much coin to spare.

‘Why are you still up, Pat? You know you don’t need to wait up for me,’ Coral asked.

Paton set his bandore aside and rolled onto his stomach, chin resting in his hands and a distant look in his eye. ‘I was thinking about her again. Have you ever heard anyone speak with such passion about enchanted armour? She makes some of the items in the shop, you know... You can tell which ones they are, there’s just something special about them that you can’t see in the other goods. It’s her touch. It’s magical in a way nothing else can be.’

Coral raised an eyebrow, unlacing her quilted surcoat. ‘I can’t say I’ve ever heard anyone speak about enchanted armour at all. That must have been one of the times you visited her shop without me.’

The ‘her’ in question was Khasmaat Zhartehp, proprietor of a small but exclusive shop on the Coffinmarch which sold magical items. Paton had been besotted with her for months, and Coral was beginning to get a tad worried. Her brother fell in love often, and frequently with women he should not have relationships with for one reason or another, but this fascination with Khasmaat was both longer-lasting and potentially rather more dangerous than most of his bouts of infatuation. The woman was a Red Wizard, which should have been a warning sign right at the start, and Coral thought that she might be a necromancer. She was of indeterminate age, but was almost definitely at least three times as old as Paton, who was twenty-two. She had also never displayed the slightest interest in Coral’s little brother, but to be fair, this might be because he had never actually spoken to her.

‘I can’t bear it,’ said brother blurted out suddenly, leaping up and shuffling through the clothes he’d tossed on the floor when he’d dressed for bed. ‘I must see her again. My eyes dim without the sight of her beauty.’

Coral rolled her eyes. ‘Pat, it’s the middle of the night. She’ll be asleep.’

‘Oh. Right.’ Paton returned to his bed and picked up his bandore once again, hugging it to his chest. ‘In the morn, then. As soon as the sun peeps its head above the ridges of Mount Waterdeep, I shall set off!’

‘Are you going to talk to her this time?’

‘Well...’

‘C’mon, Pat. This is getting a little silly, don’t you think? You’ve been pining after her since last Marpenoth, and you still haven’t said a word to her. You probably look kind of dodgy, too, going in her shop all the time and never buying anything.’

‘I can’t afford anything in there! Besides, I’m no mage, or bold paladin who’d know what to do with the wonderful wares she sells. I’m nought but a lovesick poet, doomed to admire her from afar...’

‘The doorway of her shop isn’t “afar;” it’s not that big a shop. Look, I think you ought to talk to her on the morrow. At least then you’ll know if you have any hope of gaining her affection.’

Paton slapped his hands against his cheeks, a look of terror spreading over his round face. ‘I daren’t! What if she thinks me presumptuous?’

‘Just greeting her isn’t presumptuous; she’s a merchant, people talk to her all the time! Has she ever given you a reason to worry so much about it? When I’ve been there, she’s barely looked your way. I think she might’ve smiled a little when she did glance over.’

‘Well... Will you come with me? To comfort me if she casts my heart aside, as I fear she must do?’

‘Sure. I’m not working ‘til eventide, anyway.’

‘Thank you, Coral. Oh, I’m sorry to burden you with my woes; it’s enough I have to bear them. I should not lay them upon you as well.’

Coral snorted. ‘Don’t worry about it, Pat. I’d find your woes amusing, if I didn’t know how much of your heart is in them.’

* * *

Coral glanced around the shop as she leaned on the doorframe, waiting for Paton. Most of the goods lining the shelves were arcane in nature, suitable for use mostly by mages, but there were a fair number of items seemingly intended for warriors – sets of armour etched with runes, blades resting in gleaming, oddly-coloured sheaths – as well as potions and some objects Coral could not identify at all.

The shop was empty of customers at the moment, perhaps because the hour was still very early. Paton had been too nervous to have breakfast before departing, so Coral had taken along some toast with mushrooms and salty cheese to eat on the way. They’d arrived just as Khasmaat was spelling open the door and changing the sign above it to read ‘Open.’

Now, Coral waited back by the entrance for her brother to finish talking to Khasmaat. She couldn’t make out what the two figures standing at the counter were saying, but was watching them with interest. Khasmaat looked mildly amused. Paton’s back was to the door, but Coral could tell by her brother’s stance and fidgety movements that he was no less anxious than he’d been earlier in the morning. He was nodding quickly and fervently in response to whatever the Red Wizard was saying.

Coral had pulled a little brass top from her beltpouch and was trying to spin it balanced on the flat of her sheathed dagger when Paton abruptly headed over to her.

‘What’s the story then, Pat?’

‘Her voice is as enchanting as her spellwork!’ squeaked the younger halfling. His eyes were gleaming and a little glazed, but Coral was fairly certain Khasmaat hadn’t _literally_ enchanted him. He was just starstruck.

‘And what’d she say to you in her enchanting voice?’

Sister and brother ambled towards their home at a relaxed pace, the morning mists clearing around them. Carts and a few early morning travellers passed by as they moved south along the High Road.

‘Well, I told her of my affections, and asked if there was anything I could do to bring her joy or earn the immeasurable blessing of her smile. She said there was an item she’d been meaning to get herself, but that if I could get it for her she’d be very happy.’ He looked thrilled at the thought.

‘Oh. She didn’t mean steal it or anything?’

‘No! No, it’s just an old carving that doesn’t belong to anyone. She said it has no particular value of its own; she wants it for sentimental reasons.’

‘I see.’ Coral thought this a little dubious, but Paton seemed so overjoyed that she decided to give it the benefit of the doubt. She'd heard nothing especially sinister about the shopkeep in particular, and after all despite her background Khasmaat had been happy enough to comply with Waterdeep’s regulations regarding her store. That was more than could be said for the official Thayan emissaries who’d been trying to get an enclave established in Waterdeep proper for years now, but were unwilling to give up the convenience of slave labour at their business.

‘So, where’s this old carving?’ Coral asked.

‘Undermountain, on the top level.’

Coral stopped, one hand on her brother’s arm. ‘What?’

Paton hesitated, and then the dreamy look in his eyes vanished. ‘Oh, Hells!’


	2. Chapter 2

‘C’mon, Pat, have a pastry or something at least.’

Coral held an assortment of baked goods, plucking a jam tart from the pile and waving it enticingly before the blanket-swathed form of her brother. Paton was sitting on his bed, entirely covered in a warm yellow blanket, plucking anxious arpeggios on his bandore.

‘I can’t believe I promised to go to Undermountain!’

‘I can, more’s the pity, but you don’t have to panic about it. Just tell Khasmaat you can’t go after all. She said she was going to get the item herself, didn’t she?’

The blanket flew into the air.

‘I won’t break my vow to her!’ Paton proclaimed. ‘I shall go into Undermountain and retrieve this trinket if it’s the last thing I do! I just have no idea how to do it.’

Raising an eyebrow, Coral sat down beside him and began to eat the jam tart herself. ‘A lot of adventurers go down there, and they don’t all come back up. No offence, Pat, but you’re a musician. I don’t think you’ve got much of a chance. Even if I came with you we’d have a tough time.’

She couldn’t deny that the idea of visiting Undermountain was interesting. She’d heard plenty of stories about the place from travellers at Felzoun’s Folly. That said, many of those tales had featured unhappy endings, and she’d always prided herself on being a sensible sort of halfling with a realistic idea of her own abilities.

But the idea of seeing the fabled dungeon _was_ interesting, and besides, good ol’ Pat looked really miserable...

‘I suppose,’ Coral said slowly, ‘I could ask Gram if he’s got any ideas. Mayhap there’s a spell we could use to sneak in and out without any trouble.’

‘Do you think there might be?’

‘Don’t know! I’ll go see him now; it’s almost time for second breakfast and I haven’t gone out with him at all this tenday.’

Paton looked a little more hopeful. He took a molasses biscuit from Coral’s mound of baked goods and began to munch on it thoughtfully.

‘Brinn might have some ideas, too,’ he suggested.

Brinn Brightgris was a vaguely disreputable gnome who had grown up with Coral and Paton. Even though they’d moved across the city, she still visited them on occasion, often bringing gifts which Coral suspected she'd obtained in a less than entirely legal manner.

‘She might,’ Coral agreed. ‘You should go find her while I fetch Gram. We can all meet up at the Inn of the Dripping Dagger for food and ideas.’

* * *

It had taken surprisingly little time to locate Gram and Brinn, and now the four companions were seated at a small round table in a brightly lit taproom. Gram was just finishing his explanation of why a spell of invisibility wouldn’t help much in retrieving the carving Khasmaat had requested.

‘It might not even get you all the way there, never mind back. If you must open a door or interact with any physical object, the spell will fail - the version I know is a very weak one. I only learned it recently, too; I can manage but one cast a day. Sorry, Pat.’

‘That’s alright. We’ll come up with something else!’ The support of his friends in this ill-advised venture had invigorated Paton immensely, and his tone was determined as he clasped Gram’s shoulder firmly. He had to stretch quite far to do this, since while Gram was not a particularly tall man, he was a _man_ rather than a halfling, and so towered over the other three at the table.

‘Invisibility wouldn’t stop you making noise, anyhail,’ Brinn offered. Paton had found the gnome perusing goods at a stall on the corner of Selduth Street, keeping an eye out for guards and occasionally slipping a few small items into a pouch at her belt.

‘Mayhap we’re going about this the wrong way,’ Coral suggested. She too was feeling inspired by the participation of Brinn and Gram, and had resolved to find a way to fetch Khasmaat’s item. ‘Instead of stealth, could we rely on speed? Just get in there and out as fast as we can, running past any dangers we might find, hiding when possible?’

‘Could work,’ Brinn agreed. ‘If what Khasmaat told you about where the item’s stashed is true, Pat, there shouldn’t be any really tight spaces along the way.’

‘But what of when you are actually retrieving this carving?’ Gram asked. ‘You’ll have to stop and search the room in which it’s hidden in order to find it. Anything chasing you would catch up at that point.’

‘If we can find good spots to hide at a few points on the way, we could lose most pursuers by the time we get there,’ said Coral. ‘Khasmaat said it should mostly be reanimated skeletons guarding this place. I think I could deal with a few of those, and if all goes well it would only be a few.’

‘You’re definitely going as well, Coral?’ Gram inquired, looking worried.

‘Sure! I want to see what it’s like down there. It’ll be something to boast about at Felzoun’s later.’

‘Er, do... Do you want me to come along as well?’

Coral was surprised and rather touched by the offer. While she and Gram had enjoyed each other’s company over the past months, they hadn’t been seeing one another all that long, and the apprentice was a cautious sort of man who generally preferred reading about things to actually doing them.

‘If you’re up to it. A mage’s assistance isn’t something to disregard!’

‘Just an apprentice,’ Gram mumbled. ‘I will help. My master has been saying I need more practical experience of late.’

‘Well, count me in too,’ Brinn said with a laugh. ‘It sounds like a grand old adventure! And I could do with disappearing for a time. I was at a party over in South and things went a bit wild.’

Paton clapped delightedly. ‘Wonderful! Oh, my friends, thanks ever so for your aid. I’m sure that with all four of us, we’ll have no trouble at all fetching this token for my lovely rose.’


	3. Chapter 3

Standing at the edge of the well in the Yawning Portal, Coral did not feel half as confident as she had in the warm taproom of the Dripping Dagger. The dark, empty hole seemed to exhale slightly, sending a wave of cold air flowing down from its stony rim to rustle the hairs on Coral’s toes.

With a shiver, she checked her equipment one last time. She wore the same armour as for her work at Felzoun’s Folly: thick, quilted wool padding with boiled leather plates at strategic points and a boiled leather hat with metal straps sectioning it off like an orange. Her dagger hung at one hip, a sturdy metal bar with a braided leather grip at the other.

She glanced at her companions. Brinn was garbed in dim, shifting shades of grey and green, dull tones which clashed with the flamboyant design of her clothing, which had all sort of spikes and curlicues spiralling off at strange angles. She had a floppy hat with lockpicks stuck through the brim, and a quiver of darts tucked into the top of her tunic across from a quiver of fried potato sticks, on which she was snacking. Coral hoped she didn’t confuse the two. Gram had on the same plain robes he always wore, though he had added a thick knitted scarf in anticipation of the subterranean cold, and he had his arcane focus (a small, dark blue gem) clenched in a white-knuckled fist at his side.

They had agreed that Paton, despite being responsible for starting the whole adventure, had little to offer in terms of skills which might help them get through Undermountain, and so should stay in the back if they ran into trouble. He had borrowed a spare dagger from Brinn, but was otherwise not kitted out for danger. His bandore was slung over his shoulder; he didn’t have the ability to weave magic with his songs, as bards did, but had said that in the event of a battle, he could at least play music to inspire them in more mundane fashion.

Taking a deep breath, Paton stepped up to the edge of the well. ‘Alright. Let us venture below!’

They were lowered down slowly, the sounds of chatter from the inn above fading until only the creak of ropes remained as an accompaniment for their descent into the dark. At last they reached the bottom, sand shifting under Coral’s feet as she stepped onto the floor of the first level of Undermountain.

She jumped at the sound of two hard surfaces striking together, but it was only Brinn, lighting a lamp with flint and steel. The four friends glanced at one another mutely, then set off, light glinting off rusting shields set upon the walls. Paton had recited Khasmaat’s directions at the Inn of the Dripping Dagger so they would all know where to go in case by some misfortune they were separated.

For a while they travelled in silence, Brinn taking the lead to light the way and check for any traps which might hinder or harm them. She found several, and Gram alerted them to a few more thanks to a magic detection spell. This spell didn’t last long, however, so he had to stop periodically and renew it.

They made it through several rooms and along a number of broad, stone-floored passages in this way, undisturbed by any other beings, though Coral thought she heard soft scrapings and movement down some of the halls they passed.

In fact, they had been walking for over half an hour before they ran into trouble. Brinn turned a corner ahead of the others, and they heard her shout in alarm before she bolted back around the bend, lamp flickering wildly and pulling a dart from her tunic.

‘Goblins! A whole bunch of them up ahead!’

‘Can we run past?’ Coral asked, her pulse accelerating.

‘I think so – keep together, I didn’t see any archers, just don’t get split up!’

Coral hoisted her makeshift mace in her left hand and grabbed Gram’s belt with her right. Paton grasped her shoulder, and they were off. They turned the corner, and the light of Brinn’s lamp glinted in a pair of yellow eyes as the goblins – Coral thought there were five, though she’d only gotten a glimpse as they sped past – turned to pursue the group. Yelling and cursing in a language Coral didn’t know, they followed the friends down the corridor. Coral silently thanked Tymora for the racket, which made it much easier for the group to prevent the goblins from tracking them by ear.

After running for quite a ways, the sounds of pursuit fading behind them, the companions slowed once again. As far as they could tell, they had lost the goblins, and none of them wanted to risk running straight into a trap. Frankly, it was sheer luck that they hadn’t done so already; Coral felt foolish at not having considered the downsides of speed when planning their adventure.

As they proceeded through the dark passageways of Undermountain, they’d occasionally come across signs of other surfacedwellers who had braved the dungeon before them. Sometimes these were piles of ashes from abandoned campfires, or dirty rags cast away after being used to clean weapons, but mostly they came in the form of old bones and tattered or rusty equipment. They’d all walk closer together for a while after passing reminders of this sort.

The next danger they encountered did not take them as much by surprise. Gram pulled Brinn back by the shoulder and made a shushing gesture, then pointed at the entrance of a side passage ahead. They all listened carefully, and after a second Coral made out an odd, clicking echo from the dark hall. Brinn covered her lamp and crept ahead to investigate.

When she returned, she beckoned the group in close and spoke in a breathy whisper.

‘It’s a skeleton. Just one, carrying a spear. It’s walking around in circles; I think it’ll see us if we go past.’

They contemplated the problem. Although Coral had expressed confidence in her ability to handle a couple of skeletons back at the Inn of the Dripping Dagger, she felt less certain now. After all, she hadn’t actually seen a reanimated skeleton before, never mind fought one; she had based her assessment purely on how well she’d handled fights with some of the people she’d heard boasting about battling skeletons themselves. Now she thought about it, though, adventurers often exaggerated their exploits, especially when drinking, so it was possible the characters she’d beaten weren’t as accomplished as they'd claimed. Also, they _had_ been drinking, so their skills were likely not at top condition.

Still. They had little choice, unless they wanted to go back.

‘Alright,’ Coral whispered, gripping the handle of her metal bar firmly. ‘I’ll try to break its legs. Gram, can you cast something to hold it in place, or knock it back? And Brinn, just distract it if it starts to go for any of us, got it? Paton, stay back out of its range.’

Her companions nodded. Coral took a deep breath, then sprinted down the hall and around the corner, the others close behind.

The skeleton was bigger than Coral had expected. She didn’t know why, but she had imagined it would be the size of a halfling, somewhere around her own height. It was taller than Gram, though, armed with a rusty spear twice as long as Coral was tall.

Still, being further from the ground just meant it would hurt itself more when it went down. Ducking beneath its clumsy attempt to impale her, Coral struck the side of its right knee with her bar, twisting her hips and shoulders in succession to maximize the force of the blow. The knee shattered, but the skeleton was already stabbing down with its spear.

A bolt of fire hit it squarely in the head, and its strike went awry. Then Brinn was by her side, looping a wire around the skeleton’s wristbones as it began lifting its spear for another attack. Coral grasped the wire and together the two of them pulled the skeleton, already off-balance thanks to its splintered knee, to the floor.

Coral reversed her grip on the metal bar, placed her right hand on the end of the grip, and thrust the weapon down into the skeleton’s skull. It cracked through the bone, breaking into the empty space within the undead being’s head, and the skeleton’s movement ceased. The whole fight had taken under twenty seconds.

Now that the threat was gone, Coral found herself out of breath. She sat down beside the bones on the floor, no longer connected now the skeleton was vanquished, until her breathing evened out again. Looking up, she saw Brinn smiling a little wildly at her, and returned the grin, staying silent in case of more enemies nearby - though it seemed likely that any such foes would’ve been alerted by the sounds of combat. Paton waved at her from back down the hall, a huge grin on his face. She stood and patted Gram’s arm in congratulations. He nodded a little shakily at her.

They proceeded through the dungeon. Twice they ran into individual skeletons and dispatched them, both times using surprise to their advantage. They stopped to rest once, taking it in two shifts to guard and sleep. They weren’t certain how long they’d been in Undermountain, but all of them were tired and Gram had nearly exhausted his spells.

Eventually they reached the entrance to the room in which Khasmaat had said her carving could be found. Peering over the threshold, they were dismayed to see a veritable platoon of skeletons clicking about the room. They retreated back along the passage to hold a conference.

‘Did anyone see how many were in there?’ asked Brinn.

‘I believe there were twenty-two, but I may have miscounted,’ Gram said.

They looked at each other, none of them wanting to say what they were all thinking. It was Paton who spoke up at last.

‘My friends, I’m eternally grateful to all of you for risking this adventure with me. Alas, I see no way for us to defeat the foes within that room, and thus no way to retrieve the object of our quest. Though my heart weeps at the thought of returning without it, it’s not worth any one of your lives.’

‘Hang on, Pat,’ said Coral. She shook her head. ‘Look, it isn’t just about getting the carving for Khasmaat at this point. We’ve come this far, and I think we’ve done pretty well! I for one don’t want to give up just yet.’

‘But what can we do?’ Brinn asked. ‘Mayhap, if all of us pitched in, we could defeat five or six of them, but there’s no chance in the Hells we could take them all down.’

‘I might have an idea,’ Gram said hesitantly. ‘If I make one of us invisible, that person could search the room and attempt to locate the artefact; upon picking it up, they would turn visible again, but at that point we could all turn and run. We have already found all the traps between here and the well. It’s a perilous task for the person entering the room, but I can’t think of any other plan that grants us even a small chance.’

‘That could work!’ Paton whispered excitedly. ‘I’ll gladly volunteer to enter the room. Sneaking around isn’t difficult for me, really.’

Coral and Brinn looked at one another, and Brinn shrugged. ‘Worth a try,’ she said. ‘Coral, it’s up to you. I reckon this is dangerous enough that if even one of us doesn’t want to do it, we should call it off.’

‘Let’s do it!’ Coral said immediately. She was a little worried about her brother, but he’d been honest about his skill at sneaking. Like all halflings, he had a knack for moving quickly and quietly, and from their experiences earlier in the tunnels Coral didn’t think the skeletons especially perceptive.

Gram muttered the incantation for the spell of invisibility, clutching his spellcasting focus, and Paton’s small form wavered and vanished. Coral felt a tap on her shoulder, and then the group headed back to the doorway, stopping as close to it as they dared to watch for Paton’s reappearance.


	4. Chapter 4

They waited an indeterminate number of nerve-wracking minutes in silence, and then everything happened very quickly. Paton appeared about halfway down the room on the left side, sprinting towards the door with a small statuette clutched in his hand. The skeletons creaked, opening their lipless jaws in noiseless battle cries, and lurched towards him. He ducked and spun past their bony fingers and reached the door, and the whole group took off at a run, the skeletons in hot pursuit.

With their long legs and not much in the way of body weight to slow them down, the skeletons were alarmingly fast. The little party was gaining ground, but not nearly as much as they would have liked. Gram threw a few firebolts and a splash of what Coral thought was acid over his shoulder at the pursuers, but there were too many of them to stop.

They tore down a long, straight hallway. Coral felt a stone shift under her foot, and there was a deafening cracking sound. She raced on for a few paces before realizing something was very wrong. The skeletons’ footfalls had changed rhythm, and Paton was no longer at her side.

Grabbing Brinn and Gram, she turned. A thicket of spears had plunged down from the ceiling, reaching all the way to the floor, covering almost half the length and the whole width of the hall - a trap, one Brinn must have missed the first time they passed through the corridor, probably while they'd been fleeing the goblins. The skeletons were trapped on the far side, and Paton -

Her brother was slumped against the wall just on the near side of the spears. A thick, red stain led from his small form back to the foremost of the blades.

Coral ran to him, kneeling by his side and pushing him upright against the wall. There was a deep gash along his right shoulder, and for a moment she was relieved – it was a serious injury, to be sure, but not fatal – before she realized a second gash ran down the inside of his left leg. It was this wound which had produced the blood on the ground, which even now pooled at a terrifying rate.

‘Pat! Hey, Pat, h-help me put pressure on this, come on...’ Her hands shook as she pushed on the bright red tear in his leg. Blood gushed through her fingers.

Gram dropped down beside her, offering her his scarf to press against the wound, but it was soaked through in seconds.

‘Coral,’ Paton said weakly. She didn’t look away from his leg, still trying ineffectually to stem the flow of blood.

‘What is it?’

‘Coral. Take this, please.’

She glanced up. He was holding out the carving he’d grabbed from the room, hand hovering unsteadily over his leg. As she watched, his shoulder drooped and the carving fell to the floor.

‘Give it to Khasmaat, alright? And thanks – all of you, I’m really...’ his voice trailed off and his eyes slipped shut. Coral gaped at him for a moment before she could make herself move again.

‘Gram, use one of your firebolts, quick, burn it shut,’ she snapped. He recited the incantation at speed, Draconic words tumbling over each other. There was a flash of light and a burning smell, but blood still trickled from the cracked flesh. Gram cast the spell again with no further success.

‘Alright, alright, does anyone h-have a string, something to tie it off with -’ She stopped. Paton’s chest was not moving any more.

‘Here, string.’ Brinn handed her a cord. She took it, but did nothing with it. Tears blurred her vision, and she sat back, pressing her hand hard against her eyes, chest burning.

The others stayed beside her in silence. Gram slid an arm around her shoulders.

* * *

It was around highsun when they reached Khasmaat’s shop. Several well-dressed customers made muffled exclamations of dismay upon seeing the three dusty, bloodstained figures troop through the door.

Coral took the carving up to the counter. It was a simple white statuette depicting a doglike demonic figure, perhaps as tall as Coral’s hand. Gram had cast a spell of magic detection on it, but it had resulted in nothing.

Khasmaat raised one shaven brow as Coral gently placed the carving on the dark wood of the counter. A small smear of blood marred one of the demonic figure’s horns.

‘I’d have thought young Paton would want to deliver this himself,’ the Red Wizard said, a note of inquiry in her voice.

‘He died,’ Coral said roughly. ‘On the way back through Undermountain. We’ve left him at the Font of Knowledge. He asked me to bring you this.’

Khasmaat picked up the carving and raised it close to her eyes. Her tattooed countenance was difficult for Coral to read, but she thought Khasmaat looked a little troubled.

‘Well. Thank you for fulfilling his task in his place,’ she said eventually, giving Coral a nod.

Coral returned the gesture. ‘He really cared for you, you know. Went on about you for months.’

Khasmaat said nothing in reply, and Coral and her friends departed.

* * *

Brinn plucked at the bandore, which was missing a string. She sat on Paton’s bed beside Coral and Gram, who were leaning up against one another. Two days had passed since the misadventure in Undermountain.

‘He never did play us a battle tune,’ the gnome commented. ‘I was looking forward to hearing what he’d come up with.’

‘Something good,’ Coral replied listlessly. ‘He was really good with that thing. He’d thought about going to study at New Olamn after saving up some coin, mayhap learning some real bardic arts.’

‘He was saving? I don’t suppose he had any near the amount of coin to pay for a raise dead?’ Brinn asked, sitting up and setting aside the bandore.

Coral shook her head. ‘Not even close. I already counted it out. If we pooled what he had saved with Gram’s money and mine, we still wouldn’t even have a quarter of the coin we’d need for that. Unless you’ve been secretly wealthy all this time, it won’t work.’

‘Sorry,’ Brinn said, frowning. ‘I’ve never been much for stealing coin; I go for snacks and odd trinkets, mostly. Now I wish I’d done different.’

They lapsed back into unhappy silence. Gram squeezed Coral tightly around the shoulders.

A knock sounded through the house. Nobody got up. It came again. With a sigh, Coral rose and, dragging her feet, made her way down the hall to the front door.

Pulling it open, she was taken aback to see Khasmaat Zhartehp standing there, backlit by the sinking sun. The Red Wizard was wearing more elaborate robes than Coral had seen her in before, and had a strange, bright smile on her face. She looked almost as though she were about to burst out laughing.

‘Hello,’ said Coral, bewildered.

‘Good evening,’ said the mage.

‘Can I help you with something?’

‘Why, you’ve already done so. But as it happens, _I_ have come to help _you_. I have news for you.’

‘What is it?’

‘You ought to go down to Oghma’s temple on the morrow,’ Khasmaat said. ‘Your brother will be waiting for you.’

Coral stared at her. ‘What?’

The shopkeep snorted. ‘Paton has been restored to life. I have paid the temple’s fee. He’s resting now, but should be perfectly well in the morn.’

‘W-what? That’s no small sum, not for anyone! Why? You never promised him anything like that when you set him his task, did you?’

‘I did not, but – well. I suppose I had a flight of whimsy. Besides, I’ll soon have significantly less call for coin, with no need to purchase sustenance or any number of other things.’ Khasmaat’s smile grew until she was positively beaming. ‘A statuette is less typical than a box of parchments, but the one you and your friends fetched for me has historical value. It once belonged to Ythazz Buvaar, one of my country’s founders, you know; I believe he kept it on his desk. As I said, I could have retrieved it myself, but your brother saved me the trouble. It was the last thing I had to gather for the ritual, so I’ll be leaving the city shortly to pursue my studies elsewhere.’

Coral did not know precisely what she meant, but it didn’t matter. Paton was alive! Never mind waiting until the morn – she wanted to go see him immediately, even if all he could do was snore at her.

‘Thank you!’ she exclaimed, tearing up a little, and hugged Khasmaat about the waist. The mage gave a surprised laugh, and after a moment patted her on the head before gently pushing her away and heading off down the road, still chuckling. Coral raced back to her brother’s room.

‘Brinn, Gram, come on, we have to go to the Font of Knowledge! Paton’s been resurrected!’

Her friends were as shocked as she had been, and she told them the story as they hurried towards the Castle Ward. Gram seemed to draw more meaning from Khasmaat’s explanation than she had done.

‘"More typical than a box of parchments?" That was the precise phrase?’

‘Yes, I’m pretty sure. Why?’

Gram looked torn between joy at the news about Paton and alarm at Khasmaat’s explanation. ‘It’s simply that – a box of parchments is the usual form for a lich’s phylactery, and in conjunction with her other remarks I must infer that is her intended use for the carving we brought her. It fits in other ways, too; I’m quite certain that statue really wasn’t magical in itself, but if it was historically or personally significant for her it makes sense that she might want it as a phylactery.’

The others slowed their pace. ‘You’re saying she’s, what, gone off to become a lich?’ asked Brinn, a tad incredulously.

‘I’m not concluding anything, merely speculating on what the evidence suggests,’ mumbled Gram, who appeared to very much hope the evidence was misleading.

‘I don’t care if she has,’ said Coral. ‘Probably she has. I want to go see Paton!’

On this goal they could agree, so pushing aside concerns about Khasmaat, they continued on to the temple.

* * *

The lights in the Inn of the Dripping Dagger flickered merrily, casting a warm glow over the four friends sitting together at a small round table.

‘You know,’ said Paton, plucking at his bandore, ‘I suppose I ought to be the one to say this, since having died I have the most reason not to say it: We did pretty well down in Undermountain, didn’t we?’

‘We weren’t bad,’ Brinn agreed. ‘For a bunch of first-timers I’d say we put on a good show.’

‘I was surprised,’ Gram said. ‘Pleasantly so. I’d thought we would have to turn back almost immediately.’

They all looked at Coral, who shrugged, grinning. ‘I can’t say I was ecstatic about the outcome, but it could’ve been worse, and if Pat’s alright with it I surely can’t complain.’

‘Well, and that was a place even seasoned adventurers sometimes have trouble with,’ Paton continued. ‘I imagine most first-timers choose less perilous spots for their first quests.’

‘Most likely,’ Coral agreed. ‘Why bring it up, Pat?’

‘With Khasmaat gone,’ her brother paused to sigh deeply at this (he’d taken the news of his beloved’s departure better than Coral would’ve guessed, though she suspected dying might have helped put things in perspective for him), ‘I for one have no great reason to remain here all of the time. I spoke to one of the priests at the Font of Knowledge, you know, and he gave me some advice on how to work magic into my music. I’ve been practising and I think it’s beginning to work for me.

‘I’d thought – if you’re at all interested, my friends – it might be an idea to try our luck at travelling a little, working odd jobs along the way. You know, finding things people have lost, dealing with pest problems and the like. How all the great adventurers start out.’

Brinn glanced at Coral. ‘Honestly, I’d thought something similar. I’d like to see Luskan, for starters.’

‘It could be exciting,’ Coral agreed, a tad reservedly. The eagerness she’d felt at the start of their journey to Undermountain had vanished with Paton’s death, but over the past few days it had returned with a vengeance. Apart from the cost, she’d enjoyed their adventure, frightening though it had been, and she rather wanted another.

The only thing making her hesitate was Gram. The couple had grown much closer as a result of their recent experiences, and while she thought he’d come along if she asked, she didn’t like the idea of dragging him on adventures when he’d rather be reading. She turned to ask his opinion – mayhap they could take a ship to Luskan or something, so he could study in the city while the others explored – and was surprised to see him grinning with as much enthusiasm as she felt herself.

‘I think I could use more experience in practical application of the Art, as well as knowledge gathered outside the City of Splendours,’ he said. ‘My master has a few acquaintances in Neverwinter, for one, who may be able to point me in the direction of some interesting texts.’

Coral beamed at him. ‘Luskan it is, then, and Neverwinter’s right on the way!’

They spent the rest of the evening with a map laid out on the table between them, planning first their route up the Sword Coast and then other journeys they might take later on. Toril was, after all, a very big place.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoyed this story. It's been a very long time since I wrote anything this much like original fiction, so I may have missed the mark balancing setup and plot.
> 
> Adventuring parties often seem to start out very dramatically, with somebody's tragic backstory inspiring a mission of vengeance or the like, so I wanted to write about a party which began in a much more everyday manner - with some friends going on a rather silly quest and discovering they work really well together.
> 
> I hope you have a wonderful holiday!


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